by H. Y. Hanna
Leah sighed. “Okay. But I’m sure you’re overreacting. What if I can’t come to meet you because I’m in the middle of a tantric yoga class or something?”
“I’ll make sure that you get an equally good workout with me,” said Toran, with a glimmer of a smile in his green eyes.
Leah was glad to see him lighten up a bit. She stood on tiptoes and pecked him on the lips. “I just might hold you to that,” she said with a teasing smile. She turned to go, but Toran reached out and yanked her back to him, his arms sliding around her. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss that was hard and urgent, yet tender as well. Leah felt her heart kick into a racing gallop as she gave in to the demand of his mouth and her body moulded itself to the solid warmth of his. She wanted the kiss to never end.
Finally she pulled back, vaguely aware of sounds of disapproval from the queue near them. Public displays of affection were generally frowned upon in conservative Asia and “indecent” behaviour could actually get you jailed or fined under Singapore law. She put her hands on Toran’s chest and pushed him gently away from her.
“You’re going to get me arrested before I even get to the island,” she said with a laugh.
“Maybe that’s the only way to keep you safe,” said Toran. But he released her and Leah hurried to join the line of people starting to board the boat. If she didn’t go now, the look in Toran’s eyes would weaken her resolve. She handed the ferryman her ticket money and stepped into the boat.
“Leah!”
She paused and looked back.
Toran came to the end of the jetty, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the sky. “Be careful.”
***
Pulau Ubin was one of the last spots in Singapore which had not been swallowed up in the rush for urban development. As its name—which meant “Granite Island” in Malay—suggested, it was once a centre for granite quarrying, but now the abandoned quarries were slowly becoming overgrown with vegetation and filled with water. Most visitors now were tourists and locals who came here to experience a slice of the “old way of life” no longer found in the hustle and bustle of metropolitan Singapore. There were hardly any motorised vehicles on the island, even fewer roads, transport was mostly by bicycle, and you shared the dirt tracks with wild pigs, stray dogs, and giant monitor lizards. It was also one of the last places where you could see the old-style kampongs—traditional villages of wooden houses on stilts—that once covered mainland Singapore.
The ride across the water to Pulau Ubin was barely ten minutes and Leah soon found herself standing on the island’s wooden jetty, watching the other passengers hurry off to hire bicycles from the stalls nearby or wheel their own bikes onto the tracks leading out from the village. The sun was strong in the sky now and already the cool of morning was disappearing in a wave of humid heat that brought beads of sweat to her forehead. Something hummed, high-pitched, near her ear and Leah slapped at her neck. Too late. Damn. She had heard that the mosquitoes could be voracious on the island and, belatedly, Leah remembered that she hadn’t brought any insect repellent.
Scratching at her neck, Leah walked over to a stall and bought herself a fresh drinking coconut. She sucked the cool, sweet juice up the straw and felt slightly better. She was just wondering which of the wooden bumboats moored by the jetty to approach when she heard a voice behind her.
“Miss Fisher?”
Leah turned. She almost didn’t recognise the blonde woman standing in front of her. Then the woman smiled, showing dazzling white teeth.
“Crystal,” Leah said, trying to hide her surprise. Gone was the bright pink lip gloss and corporate pencil-skirt outfit. Instead, Crystal was wearing some kind of loose cotton sarong kebaya—a traditional South East Asian blouse-dress with a sarong underskirt—a bit similar to the uniform worn by the Singapore Airlines flight stewardesses. Her face was bare of make-up, which made her look a lot younger, although her eyes were as empty as ever.
“Congratulations on being accepted to Sanctum Bona Dea. I’m sure you’ll love being part of our community.” Crystal’s lips stretched even wider. “Are you on your way to the retreat?”
“Yes,” said Leah. “I was just wondering how to hire a boat to take me there.”
“What a lucky coincidence! I’m just heading out there myself. Come with me.”
She led Leah over to one of the bumboats, said something to the captain, and climbed on board. Leah saw the captain’s face close as soon as he heard the words “Sanctum Bona Dea” and now, as he propelled the boat out into the water, she noticed that he kept glancing over at them with something that was almost like fear in his eyes.
I’m letting Toran’s paranoia get to me, thought Leah. She turned away and watched as they glided away from Pulau Ubin, towards a smaller island about five kilometres away. The bumboat pulled in alongside a small wooden jetty and the captain barely gave them enough time to climb out before he’d turned the boat around and was speeding back to Pulau Ubin.
“What was wrong with him?” asked Leah.
“What do you mean?” asked Crystal.
Leah opened her mouth, looked at Crystal’s blank, white smile, and shut it again. “Nothing,” she said, shouldering her holdall and following the blonde woman from the jetty.
This island was like a miniature copy of Pulau Ubin. Instead of a whole village by the waterside jetty, there was just one wooden hut on stilts with a sign attached to its side. Leah saw the words “WELCOME TO SANCTUM BONA DEA” crudely carved onto the sign, together with a line drawing of a naked woman with long hair caught up in a Roman style.
A path led past the hut into the forest. Unlike the dirt tracks on Pulau Ubin, though, this one had stones carefully laid in a row, along its edge, so that the overall effect was rather pretty. Leah walked a few steps behind Crystal, peering into the undergrowth around her. The path was surrounded by rows of rubber trees, several with metal spigots driven into their trunks to tap them for latex, and Leah’s shoes crunched over the empty shells of fallen rubber seeds. Something moved in the branches above and she craned her neck to see a long, furry tail disappearing around a tree trunk. A macaque monkey—one of the natives of these islands. Another rustle in the bushes to her right made her turn sharply, only to see a hairy brown-grey hump moving purposefully beside a rock. A wild pig, rooting for food.
“You’ll see a lot of those on the islands,” said Crystal, glancing back. “If you have food on you, they can smell it and they can get pretty cheeky!”
It was cooler here under the foliage, out of the direct sun, and Leah was grateful, although the mosquitoes seemed just as vicious. She slapped futilely at her bare arm and cursed herself again for forgetting the insect repellent.
The path curved around a clump of palm trees and widened suddenly into a clearing. On the far side of the clearing was a tall double gate, with high wooden fencing extending outwards on either side, disappearing into the forest. A fenced compound.
The gate had the same sign as the hut, with a slightly larger picture of the Roman goddess next to the retreat name, and the wood was polished to a rich shine. Together with the ornate carvings on the pillars on either side of the gate and the bright fuchsia blossoms of a large bougainvillea vine covering half the fence, it would have looked almost like the entrance to a posh resort hotel—if it weren’t for the barbed wire that ran, spikes glittering, along the top of the fence.
“That seems a bit extreme,” Leah said to Crystal, nodding to the wire.
“Well, we are a group of women in a remote location. We have to make sure that we can protect ourselves and that intruders can’t just get into the retreat easily.”
Nor can anyone get out, thought Leah. Then she berated herself. She really was letting Toran’s worries get to her. Straightening her shoulders, she followed Crystal as the blonde woman pulled a bell beside the gate. A rectangular gap slid open in the gate at eye level. Leah realised that there was a postern—a smaller door—cut into the gate, with a rectangular peephole windo
w. A pair of eyes peered at them from the inside, then slowly the door swung open.
Leah followed Crystal inside, stepping over the raised bottom ledge of the doorway and hearing the door shut with a final thud behind her. She found herself in a lush tropical garden, filled with gorgeous fan palms, cool green ferns, spiky-leaved bromeliads, and a riot of colour from orchids and other exotic blooms. Somewhere nearby, she could hear the musical tinkle of a water fountain and, as she inhaled, she caught the sweet, delicate scent of jasmine.
“Oh!” said Leah, a delighted smile coming to her face. Somehow, with Toran’s dire warnings about cults buzzing in her head, this peaceful, tropical garden of paradise was not what she had expected at all.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Crystal looked back at Leah, smiling. She was already halfway up the path leading through the garden, following the other woman who had opened the door for them. “Our members find the gardens very soothing.”
Leah hurried to keep up. The path through the gardens led to a central courtyard, surrounded by various dwellings. Several women were strolling around. They all wore a similar sarong kebaya to Crystal’s, in a pale shade of lavender. Leah’s heartbeat quickened for a moment when she saw a slim girl with long, black hair, then sank in disappointment when the girl turned around and she realised that it wasn’t Angela. This girl was much younger, her face round and sweet, although her eyes were downcast. She hurried past Leah without looking at her. Leah wondered if she was very shy.
In fact, shyness seemed to be something that was affecting all the members of the retreat. Leah frowned, realising that none of them would meet her eyes. She was just about to go up to two women standing by a coconut palm and strike up conversation, maybe try to ask about Angela, when Crystal grabbed her arm.
“I’ll show you where your bed is,” the blonde woman said with her crocodile smile.
“Oh—I thought I’d say hello to a few people, get to know the other members…” Leah tried to pull her elbow out of the other woman’s grasp, but Crystal’s grip tightened.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that.” Crystal’s smile didn’t falter. “It’s best to get settled in first.”
Leah acquiesced. “Okay.” There was no rush anyway, she decided. The retreat didn’t look that big. She was sure she would find Angela relatively easily. “Does the fence go all the way around the compound?” she asked as she followed Crystal across the courtyard.
“No, the back of the compound faces the water so the fence only goes out to the water’s edge on both sides. It forms a sort of semi-circle around the compound, with the waterfront along the flat side.”
Leah wondered if Toran’s abandoned jetty was in the section that was within the semi-circle or outside. And if it was outside, how easily could she leave the compound to meet him?
As if reading her mind, Crystal said, “Members are not advised to leave the compound by themselves. It can be dangerous out in the forest, especially at night. Only about a year ago, a man was found dead on Pulau Ubin by a group of crab catchers. They think that he may have been a visitor from the mainland—some nature lover who wandered into the forest and got lost, maybe slipped and fell or got bitten by a snake. They found his body rotting in a pond.” She came closer to Leah, her eyes dilating. “When they found him, a monitor lizard was eating his corpse.”
Leah shivered and looked away. She didn’t like to admit it, but the woman was creeping her out. She cleared her throat and forced a laugh. “Well, I’m more of a beach person than a forest hiker anyway.”
“There isn’t really a proper beach here,” said Crystal. “There are mangrove swamps all along the water’s edge. But you’d want to be careful going into the water. It can get very deep, especially with the mangroves growing in clumps, and the root formations are very slippery. Plus there are snakes.” She smiled. “The marbled sea snake is very common in these waters. And the shore pit viper, in particular, loves the mangroves. Very aggressive, very venomous snake. But beautiful to look at… sort of dark grey with almost purple scales… I love snakes, don’t you?”
“Er… no… not really,” said Leah, staring at the other woman.
“Oh, what a shame. There are nearly twenty species native to these islands. You’ll probably see quite a few if you leave the compound. Of course…” She laughed. “If you do meet any of them, they might just be the last thing you see. Snakes can be very unpredictable and, unless you’re an experienced local, you wouldn’t know how to avoid them.” She paused. “So I would think very carefully, Miss Fisher, before you leave the compound without an escort.”
Leah said nothing, but she couldn’t help thinking, as she followed Crystal towards one of the bigger dwellings, that the blonde woman’s last words sounded like a threat.
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Books in This Series:
TENDER DECEIT (Book 1)
TENDER TREACHERY (Book 2)
TENDER BETRAYAL (Book 3)
Other Books by H.Y. Hanna
www.hyhanna.com/amazon-authorpage
A Scone To Die For (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 1)
When an American tourist is murdered with a scone in Gemma Rose’s quaint Oxfordshire tearoom, she suddenly finds herself apron-deep in a mystery involving long-buried secrets from Oxford’s past.
Armed with her insider knowledge of the University and with the help of four nosy old ladies from the village (not to mention a cheeky little tabby cat named Muesli), Gemma sets out to solve the mystery—all while dealing with her matchmaking mother and the return of her old college love, Devlin O’Connor, now a dashing CID detective.
But with the body count rising and her business going bust, can Gemma find the killer before things turn to custard?
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Tea with Milk and Murder (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 2)
While at an Oxford cocktail party, tearoom owner Gemma Rose overhears a sinister conversation minutes before a University student is fatally poisoned. Could there be a connection? And could her best friend Cassie’s new boyfriend have anything to do with the murder?
Gemma decides to start her own investigation, helped by the nosy ladies from her Oxfordshire village and her old college flame, CID detective Devlin O’Connor. But her mother is causing havoc at Gemma’s quaint English tearoom and her best friend is furious at her snooping… and this mystery is turning out to have more twists than a chocolate pretzel!
Too late, Gemma realises that she’s could be the next item on the killer’s menu. Or will her little tabby cat, Muesli, save the day?
READ MORE: Amazon | Amazon UK
About the Author
H.Y. Hanna is an award-winning mystery and suspense writer and the author of the bestselling Oxford Tearoom Mysteries. After graduating from Oxford University, Hsin-Yi tried her hand at a variety of jobs before returning to her first love: writing. She worked as a freelance journalist for several years, with articles and short stories published in the UK, Australia and NZ, and has won awards for her novels, poetry, short stories and journalism.
A globe-trotter all her life, Hsin-Yi has lived in a variety of cultures, from Dubai to Auckland, London to New Jersey, but is now happily settled in Perth, Western Australia, with her husband and a rescue kitty named Muesli. You can learn more about her and contact her at: www.hyhanna.com.
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Acknowledgements
As always, I am grateful to the many people who have helped and supported me on this journey. First, to my amazing husband—not only for his unwavering support and belief in me—but for going above and beyond the call of husbandly duty by enduring endless discussions on how to write love scenes and the colour of the hero’s eyes, and even reading a romantic novel for the first time in his life!
A special thank you to my beta readers, Katja Bishop, Karen
Egan, Ruth Heasley, Amanda Hensley and Marjie McDonald, as well as Judith Barbuto, for their great feedback and insights, which helped tremendously in making the story the best it can be. Warm thanks to Jenn Roseton, for holding my hand, especially with the first draft, as I stepped into the world of romance. To my BFFs, Basma Alwesh and Shir-Hwa Ueng, who always find the time—despite the distance that separates us—to take an interest in, support and encourage me. And of course, to Melanie G. Howe as always for her friendship, patience, invaluable help—and wonderful, humorous honesty.
Copyright © 2014 by H.Y. Hanna
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9923153-6-8
www.hyhanna.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, persons or animals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author